


almost

by ignitesthestars



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 02:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignitesthestars/pseuds/ignitesthestars
Summary: There are too many almosts to count in Percy’s life with Annabeth.





	almost

There are too many almosts to count in Percy’s life with Annabeth.

That’s what it is to be a demigod, and _there’s_ a thought that stirs up the old resentment. Dark and bitter, and yet a part of him is glad to have it. The day he decides to roll over and accept that being a demigod means having a shitty life is the day he may as well not bother to get up again.

They’re building something new together. Something that, if it can’t banish the almosts, it can at least push them further away. If they can get their near-death experiences down to maybe once a year, Percy will consider it a win.

A pillow smacks him in the face.

Given that Percy is in bed and that’s where pillows are typically kept, this shouldn’t be all that surprising. On the other hand, given that it’s _three am_ and he’d been pretty sure his wife was asleep not five minutes ago, Percy feels pretty justified in yelping about the situation.

“Shhh,” Annabeth mumbles, flailing behind her with the pillow again. She’s curled up on her side, facing away from him. “I could hear you thinking from REM.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Percy complains, pushing the pillow away from him, except he’s not complaining at all. “And you definitely didn’t hear me thinking. You’re good, Wise Girl, but you’re not that good.”

“I’m great.” Apparently satisfied that her assault has done its work, Annabeth tucks the pillow back under her head, yawning. “And I always know when you’re awake.”

It’s a talent they share. Knowing when the other is awake, that is, obviously Percy knows when _he’s_ awake. A leftover necessity from the days right after Tartarus. Being sure of who was sleeping next to you. Being sure that they were okay.

It’s impulse to kiss her. To lean over and brush tangled curls away from her face, to press his lips to the curve of her cheekbone, featherlight.

“‘S’at for?”

For a second - just a second - Percy thinks of their almosts. The uncountable times he’s nearly lost her over the years.

“Because I can,” he says, and wraps an arm around her waist to pull her into him.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to, the body-warm metal of her rings brushing over his skin as she lifts a hand to cover his.


End file.
